I Won't Send Roses
by Miss Barrowmaniac
Summary: Severus looks back on his relationship with Harry. WARNING: SLASH! Means a romantic/sexual relationship between two male characters, a gay relationship. Don't like it, don't read it!


**Title: **I won't send roses

**Author: **Miss Barrowmaniac

**Characters:** Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Rating:** T, to be safe, as it's slash, and has some light swearing.

**Summary: **Severus looks back on his relationship with Harry.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and his universe do not belong to me. They're property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and whoever else holds the copyrights. The song isn't mine either. It's from a musical called Mack and Mable, and belongs entirely to its writers. I just couldn't resist having a go at it, and I thought the characters deserved to have a little fun, now that both the books and movies are done. They're too good to be left gathering dust in a corner. But I'm not gaining anything from this, except the pleasure of exercising my hobby, and hopefully entertaining my readers. So don't sue me!

**Warnings: **This is a SLASH story. It means it contains a romantic/sexual relationship between two male characters, i.e. a gay relationship. If you're not comfortable with the subject, you're free to go back and choose another story, or to close the window. Nobody is forcing you to read it.

**Author's note: **This is slightly AU, as Snape survives the war, but other than that, it's all more or less as it's happened in the books, except for the Epilogue in Deathly Hallows. This is my first song fic, so please read and review! It's very encouraging to know what you think, good or bad, and it helps me to keep improving as an author. So go ahead. The review box on the end of the page is just waiting for your thoughts!

* * *

**I won't send roses**

* * *

Harry is sleeping peacefully with his head on my chest, his breathing steady and warm against my naked skin. I still can't believe in what we have, what we're building together. Together.

I've always been a lonely man. Of course, being a spy, it couldn't have been any different, but even before the war, before there was the threat of Dark Lord over our heads, before I even came to Hogwarts in the first place. So I never really learned the subtleties of a relationship not based purely on interest. And the only time I tried, well... Let's just say it didn't end well at all. But I suppose that, hadn't I screwed up, then maybe this boy in my arms wouldn't exist. He certainly wouldn't be the man he is today, so strong, so gentle and so positive, despite everything that's happened to him.

It's still a little strange to think of him as a man. Evidently the person who stood up against the Dark Lord, who willingly gave his life to help build a better world, can't be called a child. But at nineteen years old, one can hardly be called and adult, especially when I've seen him grow up as I have. When he's peacefully sleeping in my arms like this, I still can't help thinking about him as just a boy.

I play with his hair as I review in my mind all happened this past week. I can't believe he still lets me call him mine.

* * *

_I won't send roses, or hold the door_

_I won't remember which dress you wore_

* * *

Harry came back for me, that day at the Shrieking Shack. He watched me die and collected my memories, before heading back to the castle with his friends. He says he already loved me then, but Granger and Weasley couldn't know. I remember his smile when he saw Fawkes crying over my wounds. It was the first time that gesture was aimed at me. And it was the last thing I saw before I fainted.

When I came to again, the war had ended and Hogwarts was empty. I dragged myself back to my chambers and after a cup of tea, I feel on my bed and passed out again. I'd never felt so exhausted in my life. I don't know for how long I slept that day. Or the few days after that.

I suppose I was more skin-and-bones than usual, for when Minerva found me, she immediately sent for Poppy. The war had ended just over a week before, and she'd come to assess the damages; she didn't want to deprive the students from their education for any longer than strictly necessary.

I refused to go to St. Mungo's, and forbade them both to tell anyone I was alive until I'd regained my strengths. I knew the new Minister would come after my head, and I wanted to be in perfect conditions to put up my defense. But apparently Harry didn't waste any time broadcasting how vital I'd been to the fall of the Dark Lord (which justified Minerva's reaction, considering the last time we'd met before then, I'd been fleeing the castle), and his statement, plus Kingsley's influence - for once, we seemed to have a fair and reasonable Minister - declared me a free man, though Harry was utterly revolted I hadn't been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class.

After it became known I was alive, he began practically stalking me. At first I'd thought about staying at Hogwarts, as I'd be helping rebuild; it was the sensible decision, considering I'd spend most of my days working there. As auror training wouldn't start for another few months, Harry had decided to help out as well, and he was quite talented at finding tasks which, if they didn't require us to actively interact, at least demanded us to work long hours side by side. And of course, being the Golden Boy, he was always invited to stay for dinner, and eventually moved to a spare room in the castle. That's when I decided to move back to Spinner's End.

At first, the looks he sent me when nobody else was looking, and the comments he made when we were alone varied from annoying to pathetic, but after a couple of months, I began enjoying the attention and, even worse, craving it. That's when the need to move away became clearest.

Though there was a lot of hard work to be done, we still managed to talk quite a lot, and much to my surprise, he not only could hold a decent conversation, but occasionally (I'd never admit it to be more often than that) he even had interesting things to say. Before I knew it, I'd made a friend.

* * *

_My heart is too much in control_

_The lack of romance in my soul_

_Will turn you gray, kid_

_So stay away, kid_

* * *

Once the school was rebuilt, it seemed we wouldn't be seeing much of each other anymore. I felt surprisingly disappointed at that, but persuaded myself all that happened between us was due exclusively to the exceptional circumstances that forced our constant company. After all, now he'd start attending Auror Academy, which should keep him rather busy and exhausted, and though with a couple week's delay, classes at Hogwarts were also being resumed.

But once again the boy surprised me, sending owls every week to schedule friendly (or so I chose to believe, then) meetings for the weekends, and though we weren't around one another as much, we didn't lose contact either.

That winter break, he decided to return to Hogwarts. He'd always claimed the school to be his home, and since his best friends would be away for their honeymoon (who the hell still marries that young nowadays?), and he'd been in the Weasley's black list since he broke up with their youngest child (on my account, he'd later tell me), it seemed to him the obvious choice. And all the professors were more than glad to see him; apart from me, he apparently didn't have time for anything except his training.

It was one of those nights that he offered to walk me to my chambers, and as the conversation was interesting, I saw no harm in it. Of course I should've known he had second intentions. We stood a few minutes in awkward silence in front of my door after saying our goodbyes; I was trying to be polite and wait for him to go, and I suppose he was trying to decide what to do next.

Staying true to his impulsive nature, he kissed my lips for no longer than a second, and pulled back before I could even react, the color on his face worthy of the head of any Weasley. He looked away, embarrassed, and I just stood there in silence.

I suppose he interpreted by reaction as a sign of consent - truth be told, had it been anyone else, or even him, say, a year before, they'd be lucky to still have their heads at that point -, and kissed me again, a little more confidently this time, letting his lips linger on mine until I pushed him away, finally regaining control over myself.

"We can't do this, Potter." I said quietly when I saw how hurt he looked. It took me quite some time to start thinking of him as 'Harry'.

"Why not?" He pouted his lower lip, and it affected me more than I thought it would.

"It's just wrong. For one thing, I'm far too old for you."

"I don't care about that." He insisted, making me smile weakly. When had his attitude started making me smile instead of wanting to hex him?

"You may not, but I do. And so will everyone else." He opened his mouth to protest, but I continued before he had the chance to say anything. "I could list another hundred reasons, Potter, but I won't do that. We're both adults, and my saying I don't want to develop such a relationship with you should be enough for you to cease trying."

He nodded with a sad smile, and I felt a sudden urge to put my arms around him, which I readily suppressed.

"So I'll pretend you never did that, and things can go back to what they used to be."

"I-I suppose it's for the best. Good night, Snape." He replied walking away, and I stood watching him until he disappeared around the corner.

As I lay in bed that night, I caught myself replaying the events over and over again in my head, no matter how hard I tried not to. And longing for more. So despite my best intentions of sustaining our relationship, I began avoiding Harry as much as I could, as I couldn't think of much else other than his lips whenever he was around.

It was early February when he got tired of my attitude and showed up unannounced one Saturday night at my door. I seriously considered not answering, but after he spent fifteen minutes knocking, I got seriously annoyed (and took pity on him, of course) and opened it. We stood there for long, silent minutes, both unsure what to say to each other.

I knew I needed to come up with some very good excuse to make him go away, but I couldn't stop watching the way he constantly licked his lips, reddened by the frequent hesitant bites they were suffering.

In the end, we didn't say anything.

His eyes caught mine as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself before kissing me, ferociously, urgently.

"Good morning." He said with a smile, stretching in bed and watching me get dressed. I turned around slightly embarrassed. It wasn't often people saw me without my full set of robes.

"Good morning, Potter."

"What time is it?" I heard him yawn.

"A quarter past seven." I replied turning back to him, who was still spread in all his glory in my bed. I couldn't help the shiver that went down my spine as my eyes ran down his body, stopping briefly in some of the many marks I'd left on his skin.

"Why are you up so early on a Sunday?" He asked, making a face.

"I have matters to attend to." I replied quietly. Then, after a hesitant moment, I asked. "Are you okay? I know it can be a little hard if you're not used to... such activities."

"I'm a little sore, but I'll live." He smiled again, and I couldn't help the pale reflection that formed in my face.

"I'll get you something for the pain." I said quietly, rummaging through a cabinet and grabbing two potions. "Here. Drink this, and pour this one on the bathtub. You should be as good as new."

"Thanks." He said, taking the phials.

I turned around and headed for the door. "Potter... This can't happen again." I said seriously, my chest heavy under the weight of that decision.

"Why not? I do quite remember you were enjoying yourself-"

"This isn't a joke, Potter!" I interrupted him, out eyes meeting as I turned back around, his playful smile being washed away. "It can't happen again. It was a mistake. You're just a child, for Merlin's sake! I... I can't do this." The last sentence came out in a pleading whisper, and he just nodded, getting up.

"I'll just get dressed and I'll leave. May I use the fireplace in the other room?"

I just nodded. I expected him to protest loudly, insist, beg, cry. Part of me had hoped he would. Had hoped he might care that much.

It was especially hard to concentrate on anything that week, with the ridiculous Valentine's Day decorations that had been put up all around the castle, which only made me grumpier than usual, and particularly inclined to terrorizing the students.

But as Saturday night came around again, Harry was once more standing at my door. As I watched him sleep the next morning, my head insisted it would only hurt me to keep doing that, that he'd soon get tired of me and dismiss me without a second thought. As the weeks passed and he began coming around once or twice during the week, I learned to ignore that annoying voice that insisted in being rational.

* * *

_Forget my shoulder when you're in need_

* * *

We never really sat down and discussed our relationship. After that day we were together, things between us just kept progressing organically, and neither of us ever felt the need to label everything that was going on between us. In hindsight, it would've been the rational thing to do when Harry first said he wanted to make our relationship known. Maybe if we had a clearer perspective of where we stood, it would've been easier to make others accept it.

I never expected it any different, but Harry was shocked at the bad reactions he got when our relationship became public. Which wasn't also my idea, but given he is who he is, trying to keep it secret would only make matters worse. Evidently, Weasley and Granger were the first to know, and expectedly, they didn't take it all too well. I doubted all along it was a good idea to tell someone you exchanged their little sister for an old Potions professor.

And of course Harry was too stubborn to listen to reason.

He insisted they were his friends and they would understand.

That they would want what was best for him.

I certainly wouldn't be the one to pick up the pieces when he returned in tears after their meeting.

"Fine, say it." He demanded, after I'd been watching him for several minutes from the door. I waited a reasonable hour before even trying to approach him. He was lying in bed, his knees tight against his chest, and though the tears were no longer falling, his face was red and swollen.

I just raised an eyebrow.

"Go on. You were right. They reacted just the way you said they would."

"I told you so." I said with a smirk.

After all this time, he still hadn't learned to trust my judgment. I must confess I felt a little pleased to see things go bad for him because he wouldn't listen to me.

"Let me guess. Weasley had a very loud and very public conniption. Granger tried to reason with you that I'm not a good influence, and that you were just misunderstanding your own feelings, with which I'm still inclined to agree. Then you stubbornly insisted you were..._ in love_ with me, and one of you walked out, swearing never to speak to each other again until the other changed their mind."

"That was... pretty much it." He replied quietly, sniffing. "I just don't understand why they can't see that I'm happy with you, and why they can't just be happy for me."

"Because just like me, they see all that's wrong with our relationship. And trust me, at least 90% of the people you tell, perhaps more, will have the exact same reaction. So either you give up on this crazy idea of being with me, or you get used to have others thinking they know better than you about your own life. Either way, crying won't do anything for you."

I turned to leave, but stopped as he called me back.

"You're not going to tell me it's going to be okay? That as long as we have each other-"

"Potter, I'm starting to think you don't know me at all. No, I won't, because I honestly agree with most of what they say, even though it's none of their business. And most importantly, I don't have any patience to deal with your little teenage delusions."

Only a few days later I began to rethink my decision. I wouldn't know what to say; I never thought there was anything particularly soothing about being told things were fine when they weren't, and even more so when they wouldn't be. Or being told love can conquer anything. It's nothing more than a bucket load of crap, and believing in lies doesn't make things any easier for anyone.

But I knew, from the start, that was who Harry was.

I knew, despite all he's been through, he believed in soul mates, and forever after, and the power of true love. All that nonsense I never had any reason to believe in. I just had never realized that being with him meant accepting those things mattered to him, and that I couldn't just destroy it. Even because part of me envied his innate capacity to believe in people.

He went seeking a friendly shoulder to cry on, and most of the people he approached didn't let me down. He eventually found some comfort with that lunatic Lovegood, and it was a relief not to have him moping around the house anymore.

It took a few months, and even more so for the younger Weasley boy to accept Harry's choices, but eventually we became old news, and mostly his friends didn't seem to care that we were together. Most of his so-called admirers still blamed me for _seducing innocent, young, vulnerable Harry Potter_, as they often put it, and I had my fair share of hate mail to deal with, but it wasn't worse than what I got after I killed Dumbledore, or when it became known I'd survived the war.

And at least now I had Harry to turn to when I needed a smile.

* * *

_Forgetting birthdays is guaranteed_

_And should I love you, you would be the last to know_

* * *

Harry has always been much more impulsive and spontaneous than me. If it'd been up to me, chances are we never would've gotten together in the first place. I'd never dared to make a move on him, and would've spent the rest of my life beating myself up wondering what might've been, followed by some sort of self-punishment for not severing my feelings from the start.

He has changed my life in more ways than he probably knows. I still enjoy far too much watching my students tremble under a mere look, as they very well should every time they enter my classroom. I'm still not one for many friends, though I've learned to respect the rest of the Golden Trio, and somehow we've all managed to remain for considerable amounts of time in the same room without trying to kill one another.

And despite my fears, I've let him in, and I don't regret it for one moment, even though I'm sure one day he'll leave me. So I hold on to every moment I get to spend with him, even if he still complains all the time that I don't talk much, don't share enough of me with him. How could I? There's too much darkness in my past to put such a burden on him. Sometimes I think he understands that. Sometimes he insists he's strong enough to take it. I think I'm not.

I've always heard how people are afraid to be too explicit with their feelings and scare away the other person. Harry's never had that problem, not with me. He's always been honest, be it about good things or bad. For instance, before I could stand his friends, many times he spent hours sulking because of a particularly acid comment, even though he's told me before he enjoys when we tease each other with the same kind of thing. I know he loves to wake up in my arms, and he can't take more than two doses of Firewhisky without running to the nearest lavatory.

I always pretend to forget all that, because I love the way he looks at me, doubting I actually didn't know it. And also because I don't want him to know just how completely in love with him I am. I know it's silly, but part of me still feels as though I shouldn't give him any more weapons to later hurt me than I already have. I've never been too good at giving control away - credit it to my messed up life, right from birth until we got together -, and I'm afraid of giving him that much power.

Minerva told me I'll end up losing him if I don't learn to do that soon.

But Harry doesn't hold those many reservations over his own feelings. It used to be a problem when I tried to teach him Occlumency. I'm glad the war and everything he had to go through because of it hasn't ruined his ability to trust, as happened to me.

So a few months after we got together, one Sunday morning we were cuddling in bed, he told me he loved me.

And he kept repeating that over and over again after that day, when the moment seemed right.

He always looks at me as if he doesn't expect me to say anything in return. I suppose a part of him knows I can't. But there's also bound to be a part that's always disappointed when I can't echo his words, that doubts I feel the same. Once or twice, I've seen it flash past his eyes.

So I kiss him as passionately as I can, as if I could erase that shadow that scares me so much.

* * *

_I won't send roses and roses suit you so_

_-x-_

_My pace is frantic, my temper's cross_

_With words romantic I'm at a loss_

* * *

Everybody who's ever met me, know me enough to see I'm not the social kind of person. I've never been too interested in people, and I constantly have work to do, which I'd rather tend to instead of pretending to care about what some stranger is saying. Harry constantly complains I work too hard, but so does he. It's inspiring to see how much he dedicates himself to the Academy; it's easy to say he'll make an excellent auror.

But a while after we became public, under a lot of insistence and the threat of going for two weeks without any action in the bedroom (not that I believed for one moment he'd be able to resist that long), I agreed to attend one of the many social event his presence was required at. He said it'd make his evening much more enjoyable to have me there, and promised we'd stay for an hour, two at the most. And he seemed so happy when I agreed.

My instincts told me not to leave the school. But for once I decided to ignore the alarms sounding in my head and put on my best robes (which, admittedly, are exactly like any other set I own) and met Harry at Grimmauld Place, so we'd arrive together. I wouldn't dare showing up at an event as such unaccompanied.

As expected, everybody present wanted to greet him, and exchange at least a few words with him, so after the third or fourth person, my patience ran out and I offered to get us drinks. I was returning from the bar with a glass of Elf-made wine and a bottle of Butterbeer - and it wasn't hard at all to go through the crowd, as virtually every person moved away from me as I approached, turning to whisper some unnecessary comment to whoever was nearest -, when I saw him.

Harry wasn't alone. He'd found a table, one of those tall enough to allow you to merely stand around it, rather than force you to sit down. His eyes were locked with the young man he was talking to, and they were laughing. I didn't know who it was, but it certainly didn't help my impression of him the fact that his hand was resting on Harry's arm. I stood a few feet away observing them, knowing they hadn't seen me yet, and unless one was a hermit, it was more than obvious there was some heavy flirting going on.

I knew that day would come, and yet it hurt me to witness that more than I ever thought possible. It only took me a moment to make up my mind. I marched to their table, and Harry turned to me with a smile that immediately disappeared when he saw my certainly less-than-friendly expression. I left the drinks on the table and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, as it was the only possible way to be heard in the room.

"I'm leaving." I told him, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.

"Wait, what?" He asked, frowning, but I was already walking towards the door. "Severus! Wait! Come on, wait!" He called after me, trying to follow me, but unlike happened when I passed, everybody seemed to want to talk to him, so he was already very far when I left the room.

* * *

_I'd be the first one to agree_

_That I'm preoccupied with me_

_And it's inbred, kid_

_So keep your head, kid_

* * *

I was furious, and apparated as soon as I could to my house in Spinner's End. I landed on my study, and everything in sight ended up broken on the floor. How could I have been so stupid? How could I let myself care so much about him, knowing he could never care as much about someone as old and damage as me, no matter what he said? And why had he even bothered to invite me to that stupid party? Was that his way of saying he wanted to break up with me? Even though it was Potter, I expected more of him.

Once my anger subsided, I sat on what was left of an armchair and hid my face in my hands. I wanted to cry. I felt humiliated, betrayed, and lost. What would I do without him? I tried to fight it, but I couldn't help the stubborn tears that insisted to roll down my face. Eventually, even those stopped, and I took a cold shower before going to bed. I'd figure out what to do in the morning.

Of one thing I was certain: I didn't want to see Harry even painted in gold.

So of course he was knocking on my door first thing in the morning.

I cast a silencing spell on the door so I didn't have to hear him knock, and forgot he was there. I didn't want any explanations or excuses. I just wanted to return to my solitary life as soon as I could, and never again forget I'm destined to spend the rest of my days alone.

Over an hour had passed, and I was trying to concentrate on my work when my door was blown out of its hinges. Wand drawn, I carefully walked to the hall, to find a very angry Harry standing on the threshold. I forgot all the self-control I'd always exerted; he'd always had that power over me. We attacked each other simultaneously, our spells colliding halfway between us and causing another explosion. We tried again after a second, with the same results.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" I asked angrily.

"Do you have any idea for how long I've been knocking on your door? Why the hell didn't you answer?"

"Didn't it occur to your brilliant mind that perhaps I don't want to talk to you?"

"Hey! If anyone has the right to be angry here, it's me! I'm the one who was abandoned in the middle of the party last night, in front of elite of the wizarding world!"

"Oh, I'm sure you were so disappointed to be _abandoned_, Potter. You and your little friend there." I gritted my teeth in anger, holding my wand tighter. Neither of us had lowered it yet.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your friend, Potter. Or do you have so many like him that you've forgotten already?" I knew I'd probably regret my accusations, especially if I was wrong, but I was too hurt to care at that moment.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Severus." He replied, his voice more controlled. "And for your information, I left the party right after you did, _alone_. Ask anyone. I thought of looking for you, but you seemed so angry I thought I'd be better to give you a little space."

"I don't want your excuses. I could care less about what you did or didn't do. It's none of my business anymore."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"That we're done, Potter. Now get out before I have to kick you out."

The tension in the air was palpable, the sparkles flying from our eyes, visible. We held our gaze challengingly, and we were both trembling slightly. Then Harry's expression changed.

"Theodore? You're talking about Theodore?" He asked surprised, understanding what was going on.

"I don't know his name, and I don't care to know." I replied, holding tightly to what was left of my pride.

"He was the one I was talking to when you came back with our drinks. Are you honestly jealous of him? He's just a friend."

"I'm sure you treat all your friends like that, Potter. I just expected you to be a little more decent, and tell me to my face that you're tired of me. But then again that was probably too much to expect from you."

"Tired of... Tired? You honestly think I'm cheating on you with him?"

"If that's how you treat all your friends, not just with him. And don't try to deny it, it was more than obvious from the way you behaved that there's more than friendship going on between you."

"I... I don't even know how to respond to that." He said quietly, lowering his wand. I kept mine firmly pointed at his chest. "Yes, we were flirting. But it doesn't mean anything, Severus, I swear to you. Theodore will flirt with anything that moves, and trust me, he's tried his luck with some of the creatures we've practiced spells against." He smiled faintly, and sighed, tired. "I would never cheat on you. Ever. I love you."

"Don't you dare say that. I accept that you were bound to find someone more interesting, but don't lie to me like that. You've done enough damage as it is."

"It's the truth! I love you, Severus, and I always will, whether you believe it or not." He advanced a step, but stopped as he realized I had no intention of lowering my wand. "I'm sorry if it hurt you. I had no idea it would. But I promise not to do it again, okay? I'll be more careful, and I'll talk to him, ask him to stop."

"It's too late for that."

"Don't say that. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You should've thought about that before."

"Well, clearly nothing I can say matters, isn't it?" He replied, his anger evident again. "Then there's something I want to tell you. I never said anything, but if you're going to keep throwing those stupid accusations at me, then let me make a few of my own, which I'm certain will be more precise than yours. Every time I'm here, or at your chambers in Hogwarts, you're owling someone. I never said anything, but I accidentally, and trust me, I would take if back if I could, I accidentally saw who you were writing to. Always the same man, isn't it? Peter something. You're always more interested in what he has to say then in spending time with me. What on Earth am I supposed to make of that?"

"Though I hardly think that's any of your business anymore, Peter is a colleague of mine. We've been discussing some experiments we've been conducting."

"And you want me to believe all that urgency to reply is just because of some potions? I've asked around. You meet him at Hogsmeade every week, when I'm not around. If there's anyone here with motives to consider being betrayed, it's me, Severus."

"He's a _colleague_, Potter. Not even a friend. And we discuss strictly work."

"Well, Theodore and I are just friends. We have a laugh together, because as I'm sure you know, the Academy is no joke. And it was the first time we've even met outside school. He's always too busy taking care of his younger siblings, since his parents died in the war."

I swallowed hard. It was true I knew nothing of that Theodore, and that ultimately, my own behavior could be considered suspicious. But it'd hurt so bad, I felt so terrible the previous night I wasn't sure I was willing to give us another change. And yet I knew I could never live without Harry again.

"I'm sorry, Severus." He said quietly, looking into my eyes and walking closer, putting one hand over my wand and pointing it down. "I didn't know it was something that bothered you. Now that I know, I promise I'll be careful not to let it happen again. Can you please give me another chance?"

I looked into his eyes, so intense and so true.

"You can use legilimency if you want." He offered in a whisper, but I shook my head. If I was going to trust him, it'd have to be without resorting to that. Or else I'd never trust him again without it.

"I... Believe you." I whispered back. My breathing was a little rapid, my heart pounding in my chest and an annoying voice screaming in my head it would only bring me more heartache. "I'm sorry too, Harry. For the way I reacted, the things I said. For being such an idiot sometimes." I wasn't even sure he'd heard me, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I pulled him into a tight hug that lasted long minutes, and ended in a passionate, desperate kiss.

We stood in the hall for a long time, holding each other as tightly as we could, the blown door still on the floor, the marks of the explosions on the walls and of my rage all over the study by whose open door we were standing.

"I'm sorry about the door." He whispered after a while, and though I couldn't see it, I knew he was smiling. It was such a relief to know he wasn't angry anymore. "I suppose I lost control a little."

"Don't worry about it."

"Seems your study isn't in much better shape." He giggled, and tears pooled in my eyes at the sound. I didn't know love could hurt so much, but I also didn't know it could be so wonderful.

* * *

_In me you'll find things like guts and nerve_

_But not the kind things that you deserve_

* * *

There were many fights that followed the first one. I'd never had anyone, so I never realized just how possessive and jealous I could be. Sure, there's been Lily, and undoubtedly I hated to see her with Potter, but I persuaded myself that, since she chose him, I didn't have the right to feel jealous. After everything and everyone I'd lost to this stupid war, when Harry said he was mine, I believed it desperately.

Just last week we'd fought again. He complained for the umpteenth time I worked too much, and now he's on vacation from the Academy, there's not much for him to do. He spends a lot of time playing Quidditch with the Weasleys that still have time for it, and he's visited every last friend he had during his school days. But between preparing my lessons, dealing with other school bureaucracy that I couldn't escape, as I'd been made Deputy Headmaster, the potions I was required to make on a regular basis, both for the Hospital Wing as well as for some special orders I'd received through Dumbledore, and the many experiences I was working on, perfecting and creating new potions, I admit I didn't have much more time for him than I did when Hogwarts was full of dunderheads.

He spent a couple of days at the Weasley-Granger household after he left my lab steaming from his ears, and returned with his head down, all apologetic. I understand him, I truly do, and I wish there was something I could do about it, but I just have a lot on my hands. I apologized as well, and we had some great make-up sex, but I know it doesn't undo all the things he wishes I'd do for him and I never will.

It's funny how I could play the double spy, but I can't be a good boyfriend to someone who demands so little as Harry does. I know he deserves better than me, or at least a better me. But that's just not me.

* * *

_So while there's a fighting chance_

_Just turn and go_

* * *

He should leave while he still can. I keep telling him that, because I know one day he'll get tired of me and will go looking for someone his own age, someone who'll be capable of keeping up with him the way I never will.

He should leave while all we have from this are good memories. While I haven't had time to crush him under the weight of my damaged past, or permanently taint him with all my darkness. He's still so young, so pure, I don't have the right to spoil that, to steal his youth from him.

I don't really understand why he stays. He says it's because he loves me, but who could ever really love me after all I've done? He's interested in me, sure, especially after he found out about this "other side" of me. After he realized the bullying professor was just part of who I am, perhaps the smallest part. But that curiosity will wear out soon enough, and then he'll be forced to see me for who I really am. I'd rather he left before that.

* * *

_I won't send roses,_

* * *

He moves in his sleep as if he could hear my thoughts. I smile as I pull him closer, kissing the top of his head. I've never been happier, and it breaks my heart to know it'll end much too soon. To know I'll be all alone again, and this time for good.

"Why are you still awake?" He mumbles, rubbing his eyes and looking up, the green gems glowing under the faint moonlight that bathes the room.

"It's nothing." I assure him with a smile. "Go back to sleep." I whisper.

He looks at me for another moment, and it feels like he can see through to my soul. Nobody's ever really been able to do that, and it still frightens me a little, but at the same time, I want him to know everything about me, so I allow him. He says he always felt like that when I looked at him. I don't know if it's just my imagination, but I don't think I can do that anymore. I think I'm afraid of what I might find.

"I love you, Severus." He whispers seriously before covering my lips with his own.

I've never been able to reply to that with words.

We break the kiss and he rests his head on my chest again, one arm around me pulling me close. I smile as I rest my chin lightly on the top of his head, tightening my grip as well.

I know he knows I love him as well. And one day I'll be ready to say that out loud.

Just you wait, my love.

* * *

_And roses suit you so._


End file.
